


To Be A King

by ShootWithIntentToKill



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, I cried while i was writing this, Moments in the life of T'Challa, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Black Panther (2018), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rest in Peace Chadwick, Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootWithIntentToKill/pseuds/ShootWithIntentToKill
Summary: Moments in the life of T'Challa.In memory of Chadwick Boseman.
Relationships: Nakia (Black Panther)/T'Challa, Shuri & T'Challa (Marvel)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	To Be A King

**Author's Note:**

> So, I began writing this on the 29th, as soon as I heard the news. I just hope that I managed to do such an incredible character the justice that he deserves.
> 
> Thank you so much to everything that you have given, Chadwick, and rest in peace, king.

T’Challa was eight years old when he first saw the Dora Milaje train. He had been complaining to his father – “why do I need to learn to fight, Baba? When I am king, I can make people fight for me. And Wakanda does not fight in wars with the outside world. Everyone knows that.”

King T’Chaka smiled his son. “But you must be a warrior, for a king who cannot protect his country is no king at all. The people will not fight for you, unless you lead them.”

The king then took his son to the field where the Dora trained in their red uniforms, spears glinting against the hot African sun. Young T’Challa watched, entranced by the fluid movements and disciplined formations. “The Dora Milaje are the protectors of the king, and the king is the protector of Wakanda and her ways,” T’Chaka told the child.

T’Challa continued to watch the Dora train, eyes wide. “Baba, when I grow up, I want to be a Dora.”

T’Chaka just laughed, and placed his arm around his son’s shoulders.

* * *

When Ulysses Klaue stole a cache of Vibranium, his father took T’Challa to visit the people of the border tribe, who had suffered the most losses at the hands of Klaue.

“He killed my parents,” his friend W’Kabi told T’Challa. “They were trying to stop Klaue when the explosion went off, and…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry,” T’Challa said. “The War Dogs, and Baba will find Klaue, and you will get justice. Wakanda will get justice.”

“I don’t want justice,” W’Kabi snarled. “I want him dead.”

“They will find him,” T’Challa repeated. “Wakanda is the most powerful nation in the world. We can find one man.”

* * *

True enough, days later T’Chaka left with two of the Dora, looking unhappy. T’Challa stopped him before he left.

“Have you found Klaue, Baba?” He asked.

T’Chaka touched his son’s cheek, looking sad. “I got some news from a War Dog in America,” he said. “It will lead me to the man who caused this tragedy.”

“Can I come?” T’Challa asked.

T’Chaka gave a small smile, and touched his son’s cheek. “No, my son. You must stay here, continue your studies.”

“But we study politics,” T’Challa groans. “It is boring. So many people, how can they decide anything. No one ever agrees with anyone else.”

“Politics is important,” T’Chaka said. “It is how the world is shaped, and how it works. To be a king, you must learn it.”

“Yes, Baba,” T’Challa said.

T’Chaka gave another small smile. “I will return soon.

When he returned, he brought with him a War Dog he introduced as Zuri, son of Badu, but no Klaue.

* * *

When Shuri was born, T’Challa instantly fell in love. Years of practical jokes and sarcasm that followed that day never lessened that (whatever he might tell her).

Shuri was a scientist, from the day she was old enough to understand what a scientist was. She loved to study, loved to make things work. By the age of seven, she was working beside some of Wakanda’s top scientists. By the age of twelve, she was revolutionising the country with her designs, having designed a method of stabilising the raw Vibranium on the high-speed trains as it was transported out of the mines. Despite the age gap between the two siblings, they were as close as any, teasing and joking with each other in true sibling fashion.

What Shuri made up for in her scientific prowess, in the eyes of the people she lost in her disregard of tradition. Wakanda was proud to have been one of the only countries in Africa never colonised, and as such they had traditions spanning generations. Shuri had no interest in any of the stories of Wakanda’s history and traditions. She would only wear traditional outfits when forced by her mother, and would roll her eyes whenever anyone tried to tell her the importance of specific celebrations.

“You must at least pretend to be interested in tradition, Shuri,” T’Challa told his sister. “The Elders respect tradition.”

“They do,” agreed Shuri, “that is why they are the Elders. How can I be a scientist, if I can’t change anything, if I have to respect everything that has already been done? How can you make a difference as a king, if you must do everything that previous rulers have done?”

“Ah. I pray to Bast it will be a long time before I am king, Shuri.”

* * *

T’Challa wasn’t sure when he fell for Nakia. They had spent years as children, creeping around the secret passages of the palace, playing in the catacombs below. It wasn’t sudden, but slowly T’Challa began to realise that he saw Nakia as more than just a friend. They were sitting on the edge of a cliff, staring at the great fields of Wakanda below, when he first kissed her. Later he could not remember what they had been discussing, it was something inconsequential, perhaps Shuri’s latest prank, when he found himself leaning over and pressing a light kiss on her cheek.

He didn’t apologise, remembering his father’s words. “Never apologise, unless you know what you did was wrong. It shows you are unsure, and a king who is unsure will be easy prey, like the weak antelope for the lions,” but he wanted to. He stared at Nakia, waiting to see what she would say. He was not expecting her to return the kiss, this time on his lips.

“Nakia-” T’Challa started.

“Shh,” she whispered. They stayed up on that ledge until the sun went down, turning the sky from blue, to startling oranges and pinks, finally to black, covered in tiny pinpricks of light.

* * *

“Do you ever wonder what the outside world would do, if they have access to our resources?” Nakia asked suddenly one day.

“Baba said they would most likely use it to build weapons to wage wars on other nations,” T’Challa replied.

“But, if they used it right, they could help so many people,” Nakia argued. “There are people out there, hungry, injured, sick. Vibranium, our science, our knowledge could help them.”

“Other than what Klaue stole, the only Vibranium in the world they used to make a weapon for a soldier to fight a war,” T’Challa said.

“But if someone showed them,” Nakia insisted, “if we showed them…”

“It is our way to close our borders, to keep our secrets from the rest of the world,” T’Challa repeated the words his father had told him, “to keep our country, and our way of life safe.”

Nakia turned her head away.

* * *

There was something different, when T’Challa came to find his father one day. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but T’Chaka told him, “I am growing old, my son. It is my duty to be King of Wakanda, for as long as I shall live, but Wakanda must have both a Black Panther, and a king.”

“Baba-” T’Challa started, but T’Chaka silenced him with a look.

“A Black Panther who cannot fight, is not the warrior Wakanda needs,” he said. “It is time for the mantle to be passed on. You have been preparing for this day your entire life, and now you are ready.”

T’Challa didn’t remember much of the following rituals or ceremonies. He barely even remembered what happened when he took the heart shaped herb. But he did remember the proud look on his parent’s face, the grin on Shuri’s lips, the soft smile on Nakia’s. He remembered the way he had so much more control over his muscles, the way it felt like his instincts were unmatchable, the way he felt stronger, healthier than ever before. He remembered Zuri standing before the assembled Wakandans, introducing “the new Black Panther, protector of Wakanda”.

Three weeks later T’Challa brought his designs to Shuri for a new Panther suit, that she was only too happy to help build.

* * *

“I have joined the War Dogs,” Nakia told T’Challa one evening, as the couple sat in the palace.

T’Challa’s head shot up. “You have?”

“I want to do something,” she said, “I want to help people. There are so many people suffering, outside of our borders, I can do something to help. I cannot just sit around, knowing what is happening in the world.”

“Nakia, I-”

“What, T’Challa? Are you going to tell me to turn a blind eye, that the people out there are not our people, so why should we care?”

T’Challa didn’t reply.

Three weeks later, Nakia pulled down her bottom lip to show him the shimmering, azure War Dog tattoo.

* * *

Each of Nakia’s missions lasted longer than the last, and between each one there was less and less time. The use of Wakanda’s resources became a constant disagreement between them. One day, Nakia took him out to the edge of the city, where they could view the fields beyond.

“T’Challa, I cannot keep doing this,” she said.

“Doing what?”

Nakia gave a small smile. “T’Challa, I love you, but Wakanda will not change. I want to be out there, in the world, helping people, not here, pretending that the rest of the world’s problems do not matter. Since I joined the War Dogs, I have seen too many people in need to turn a blind eye, to ignore all the people in pain. I love Wakanda, but I want to leave, to help people, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life waiting for me.”

T’Challa was quiet for some time, staring out into the horizon. Finally, he turned and said, “so that is it? You are leaving, and want me to move on just like that?” He snapped his fingers.

“One day, you will be king of Wakanda, T’Challa. But I cannot be Queen. The world out there? It calls me. I want to help the world, and I cannot do it as queen of a country that lies to the world.”

T’Challa went back to staring out at the horizon. He wanted to try and convinced Nakia to stay, but he couldn’t. One of the reasons that he had fallen in love with her was because of her stubbornness, and immovability. Finally, he said, “You will always have a home in Wakanda.”

Nakia kissed him on the cheek, and walked away. T’Challa didn’t return to the palace, until Shuri came to find him the next morning to say that he had missed Nakia leaving Wakanda.

* * *

The news was everywhere. It was impossible to miss. Eleven Wakandans killed by Avengers on one of the first of Wakanda’s goodwill missions. Killed by the Avengers, who were operating as an independent unit, answerable to no one. Instantly, King T’Chaka left to speak to the United Nations for the Avengers to answer for what happened. The next day, Queen Ramonda came to find T’Challa.

“Your father called,” she said. “He is to give a speech to the United Nations at a conference to implement accords, giving the Avengers oversight.”

“I have heard,” T’Challa said. “It is a good idea, and will hopefully stop what happened in Nigeria from happening again. I am glad Baba will be there, to honour our people who were killed.”

“He wants you there as well,” the Queen told him.

Thoughts raced through T’Challa’s head. He had studied underneath his father for years, but had never gone to an event so high profile as the accords signing. “I will be honoured,” he said.

He packed light, but as a second thought, added his armour to his bag. He was the protector of Wakanda, after all, and you never know when it may come in useful.

* * *

“Hate has consumed you; it is consuming them. I am done letting it consume me.”

Despite how exhausted both Captain Rogers and Barnes looked when they left the base, they both readied themselves for a fight as soon as they saw T’Challa. Barnes’ vibranium arm was missing, as was Rogers’ shield, and they were barely holding each other up. T’Challa raised his hand to placate them.

“I heard everything,” he said. “I will take Zemo to Agent Ross, where he will serve justice for the death of my father and the other men he killed. I would like to apologise to you, Sargent Barnes, for my mislaid anger, and blaming you for my father’s death.

“As an apology, I would like to offer you sanctuary in Wakanda for a time, while your wounds to heal.”

“Thank you,” Barnes rasped, “but there is programming inside my head still, that Hydra put there. He only had to say the goddamn words and…” he shook his head slightly. “I won’t be safe anywhere.”

T’Challa gave a thin smile. “I think that Wakanda can help with that, also.”

* * *

“Wakanda will no longer watch from the shadows. We cannot. We must not. We will work to be an example of how we, as brothers and sisters on this earth, should treat each other. Now, more than ever, the illusions of division threaten our very existence. We all know the truth: more connects us than separates us. But in times of crisis the wise build bridges, while the foolish build barriers. We must find a way to look after one another, as if we were one single tribe.”

In memory of Chadwick Boseman, 1976 – 2020. “In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into a green veld where you can run forever.”


End file.
